Paris, day 2 and 3

 

While Khaldia drives Djelloul to the airport bus, we finish off some postcards.  The mailbox is right around the corner, so it's an easy drop.  Then on to the great Louvre.  I ask Rock if we have a plan. He said there were a few pieces he wanted to see, but we didn't need a plan.  I made a definite plan with the girls, and it seemed to be very easy to follow it.  Not so easy this time.  

It's, like, big, the Louvre.

And the line downstairs stretched for a good city block -- blessedly in the warmth of a downstairs mall, with gorgeous storefronts.  We inched forward.  As would be anyone's tendency, I started wondering what in the world they were doing.  Moma has at least ten folks selling tickets, the Met a dozen.  Even quiet Brooklyn Museum has three or four. But it turned out to not be ticket sellers.  It was security.  

One.

One security station for, maybe, 800 visitors an hour?  At least in the morning.  Could this brilliant country with their efficient mass transit and clean streets (Khaldia said you get fined if you don't paint or restore your building exterior every 10 years) find maybe two more security machines and personnel?  Or is it just part of the experience?  Rock said, "Diane.  Welcome to Disneyland."  He remembers hour long waits for every ride.  

I wasn't so patient.  Khaldia smiled and chuckled.  We are, after all, going to the Louvre.

Elegant storefronts line the ticket line.

And Rock was entranced from the start.  I never did see most of the old friends I made at the last visit, but there were lots of new ones.

This is actually the story of Mary and Martha, Martha complaining to Jesus that Mary isn't helping out in the kitchen.  Jesus tells Martha how much he appreciates all her care and concern, but Mary. listening to his teaching, has made the better choice.  I always pictured Mary as sitting in the shadows behind a crowd of disciples.  Here she's getting private tutoring! In Algeria, the custom is  (and I'm sure in Bible times) that the women prepare all the meals and  eat in the kitchen.  So maybe there wouldn't be any opportunity to listen during mealtime.  Interesting subject -- makaes you wonder about Steenvyck's view of women.

I loved this moment of light, and

this of revelation.  Who knew?

This Vermeer jewel is a little larger than a sheet of copy paper! 

A little taste of Versailles in Napoleonic times. 

And winged victory, so rightly and majestically placed at the top of a stairway.

We went into the Italian section.  Rock was looking for the drawings of da Vinci.
Paintings, we found these amazing Italian paintings.  I remember as a child gazing at this picture in the art book Aunt Nan gave me.
In person, the colors are warm, immediate.

Brilliant, but I never quite realized that it's a picture of a woman sitting on another's lap,
keeping the baby from mauling the lamb. "Now, dear, the lambkin needs his ear to hear with.  Let's not pull it off."

Such a tender observation.  I love the child holding his foot.

And out.  We go to the food court here, and Khaldia, making sure we have all the experiences we should, insists we eat at MacDonald's just so we taste how different it is.  I growl, but it is different.  Rock appreciates his burger, and Khaldia her salad.  I'm afraid a fish filet is a fish filet is a fish filet.

Across the river now to the Musee D'Orsay.

It's chilly.  I felt for this statue.  

Louis the somethingth.  Giddy'ap.  

Had to take a picture of this arch.  Had to do a double take to make sure we weren't in Grand Army Plaza with the chariot up there,.

Stepped out and the mounted police just showed up.  Checking up on us maybe?  

The Rock by the river Seine.

Unlike the Louvre, no pictures allowed. 

 But here's the great clock.  It's an old train station, and you need clocks.  Again, Khaldia and I remembered when we went here with the girls.  We walked behind the clock and took pictures there.  It, too is huge, and we didn't see a quarter of the artwork.   But those we saw were memorable.  
The thing is, not seeing everything?  just getting a taste?
It means, well, it means we just have to come back!

A series of the women of the world.  I'm before North America.

And Khaldia, Africa.  

And now onto the Islamic Center.  I think my camera was running out of power -- as I have just one picture of the place.  So I snatched a picture from the trip years ago, on a much warmer day.  There's Aicha.  The windows, in keeping with all the contributions to science by Muslims, open and close to regulate the light coming in.  It was a science exhibit then, in the little exhibition hall.  This time it was art objects from ancient times.

And up on the roof, beautiful views.

DAY 3

Up and out, bright and early.  

It's the day to see the Eiffel Tower and the Centre du Pompideau.  And then we'll treat Khaldia to dinner out in a restaurant of her choice.  The night before we thought the crepe place near her home would be open, but it wasn't, and we found a little spot nearby that stayed open for us, so it was just us, the cook, and the owner/server.   He reminded me of Charlie Chaplain in the role of a waiter, all servitude with the self-respect of a monarch.  Any moment he might click his heels and bow, but the tilt of the head, the listening, the "Oui Madame" --   I just had to smile. We had cous cous.   Perfect.   

A sunny day!  Mostly.  We're in good spirits. Camera all charged. And daffies cheering us on.

Not everything is 18th century.

Don't know what this statue is for, but the figures are enthusiastic about it -- and so are we.

Getting closer!

And closer!

When we went with the girls it was midsummer, and a 3+hour wait in line.  This time I thought we got off easy.  Only a half hour or so.  Past the security, then stuffed into one of the elevators to the first level.  Khaldia showed us which direction her home is.  We'd need to buy tickets to take the elevator to the top.  The booth was empty when we got out, and by the time we wanted tickets, the line was around the tower.  

But lots to see.  And a little cafe there.  So Coffee for Rock and Khaldia, and Hot chocolate for me.  And some lovely sandwich and Croissant.  A one-legged Pigeon who was only missing a cardboard sign around his neck, found our crumbs delicious.

Hot chocolate!  Khaldia borrowed some of the cream for her coffee.

Then the wait began in earnest.  We took turns in line.  Apparently they wait until the people on top have decided to amble down.  Over an hour.  I wanted to give the guides some suggestions about maybe a twenty-minute time limit up there?  They said the booth will open in 15 minutes.  Well, it was the eiffel tower.  Rock was going to bail if it was anything more.  But it wasn't and once up there we all forgot about the wait.

While waiting, keeping up.  

During my turn I told them to stand above me.  So they did.  Click.

Baron somebody made the plan for Paris.  All I could wonder was how they all survived
the years and years of building an enormous, brand new city.

And then the line moves and we have our tickets and up we go!  The first thing I want to show Rock is the wax figures of Eiffel, Eiffel's daughter and Thomas Edison, sitting in the room (intersected by steel beams) of the apartment Eiffel had made for himself at the top.  Love the wallpaper.

Some photos of famous visitors, including Buffalo Bill, the sultan of something, the Czar Nicholas and his family and Queen Victoria.

And while Rock and Khaldia wait in line to take the elevator down, I high-tail it down the steps, remembering how Emma Nour and I laughed racing each other to beat Aicha and Khaldia.
Then I slowed down to enjoy the view.

A class trip, like a bowl of berries.

Way down there, that's where you buy the tickets.

I guess I should have hurried more.  It is cold.
Well, onwards.

A pigeon was waiting, too.

The bus,

past the government buildings, I think.

and a tower missing it's church.

On and up to Pompideau.  It's a Jeff Koons show.  One we missed in the states, but here it is in the glorous panorama of Paris.  Pure joy.  This time I couldn't help think of how much Paul would enjoy it.  I took most of the pictures for him.

Buster Keaton tipping his hat to Khaldia.

Michael Jackson.

The famous poodle -- 

The kitty and Sacre Ceouer (behind Rock.)

Accessible.  Rock says it's accessible.  

Popeye!  My favorite.  Just delicious.

The Hulk -- in a, let's say, --  organic approach.

And Joan of Arc leads us on!  A sweet statue.  

I think this is my favorite statue in Paris.  She's all girl, all strength, all conviction.

Ok, there's the Louvre, the Musee D'Orsay, the Centre du Pompideau, and the Musee de desserts: Angelina's the best, best, dessert place in Paris.  Khaldia says Angelina's is not to be missed and she knows of which she speaks.  Even the ambiance is a confection.

cheesecake for Khaldia, cloud-light.

A lemon nut something?

 And my chocolate something, Yum and double yum. served with hot "African" chocolate.
 Dark, rich and thick, served in a white china teapot. It sets the standard.

A little something for take-out?

It's hard to leave.

But on to the Place du Concorde.

I think this is called Cleopatra's needle?  The descriptions in gold of how it was moved from
where it was found/robbed, glows golden in the sunlight.

A whole winter is a long time to wait for a shower, but the fountain
figures wait patiently for the guy to turn on the water in spring.

I just missed!!!! the red sun setting.

Down into the subway and up onto this lovely scene.  Imagine coming up out of a subway onto this lovely scene.

The Paris Mosque, built in gratitude for the Muslims who fought in the world wars for France.

a bird sings to accompany our footsteps.

A magical place of peace.

And nearby, a restaurant/cafe for the visitors in full Ottoman elegance.

And while we wait for the tram to the restaurant, I snap the flower shop across the street.

Our final Parisian mode of transport, the tram.

The waitress plops the chalboard on a spare chair, and explains the offering.

Our Hors d'euves

Rock's devastatingly delicious whitefish.

Khaldia's fish dish

My boned duck.  

A perfect French dinner, as far as we're concerned.  Couldn't be better.

Back to the apartment.  Wake early.  Munch cuoissants, gather bags, stuff them all in the car around me, and we're off.  And hugs and hugs and kisses good-by to Khaldia.  Djelloul has already arrived safe and sound.  She'll have the rest of the day to enjoy her vacation, then back to work the next day.  The bus comes before the police, so she says a final good-by, and we all drive off.

Khaldia.  

The view on the way to the bus stop.
 Though it's a perfectly fine flight and we arrive safe at JFK, and (after a long long line) get a taxi to Brooklyn and we unlock the doors and haul our suitcases upstairs and settle in, it's a long, long time before our feet actually touch the ground.

Lots to think about, lots to share.

love,
diane
and Rock.